


A Court of Dark and Light

by Writers_____Block2019



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_____Block2019/pseuds/Writers_____Block2019
Summary: Hi everyone!! So this is my first Fanfic thing so in the comments, please be constructive with criticism and give lots o' suggestions. I apologize in advance if the tenses change sporadically from past to present--it's something that I'm working on.Okay, so...CH 1:Feyre's POVIt's been about a week since arriving at the Spring Court as a spy for the Night Court. In this chapter, Feyre deals with being apart from Rhys and her adjustments without him.





	

CH 1

Feyre

One.

* * *

I opened my eyes and my stomach dropped, as it always did, when my eyes fell on the tiled ceiling of my cell.

It’s been weeks, maybe a month, since my second trial. I wondered when my final one would come. I wondered if I’d live or not. I hoped I… _no, Feyre_ , I snapped at myself. _You’re not there yet._ I wouldn’t have those thoughts. Not when Tamlin sat under her control. Amathara's. I found myself looking down at my tattooed arm suddenly and felt a strange sense of calmness come over me; a feeling I couldn't place at the moment.

Suddenly the room swayed and I was in another room.

The throne room, I called it.

The room of nightmares.

Next to her sat Tamilin, looking placid as ever. I willed him to do anything—say anything—but, as usual, he just stared ahead as if I were nothing but a stranger. He was a stranger. And a coward, too. I felt genuine surprise at my thoughts, as if I was thinking from two minds at once--a mind that loved Tamlin, my savior from Spring, and a mind that...didn't. All the feeling of love and wanting for him suddenly vanished, being replaced by the other mind, as if someone popped a balloon with my emotion. All that was left was something…different. Something I didn't want to admit was true but, it  _was_ true.

I wasn't in love with him.

No.

I hated him with every bone in my body.

Two.

There were drops of some sort of black liquid that fell from the ceiling onto and down my face. I raised a hand and wiped the liquid off while gazing upwards. I stifled my scream and my nausea.

There, from the ceiling, hung wings.

Two black, powerful and beautiful, wings of the night. I didn’t have to try hard to guess who they belonged to. Rhysand. My mate. My best friend. His wings were there just left out to dry and I was here, left out to die.

And Tamlin still did nothing.

Even as I felt myself screaming at him and the silent tears roll down my face, intermingling with my mate’s blood, he sat and just…stared. _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!_ I wanted to scream but the words did not form. I clutched my stomach. There was so much pain! A groan escaped my lips and I sunk to my knees, wanting nothing more than to comfort my mate but he was gone. Or dead. I hoped he was dead. I wanted him to be dead. If he wasn’t, he’d surely want to die without his wings…or me. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? It was an execution. Amathara looked at me with eyes filled with hatred.

She raised her sword which was still dripping with my mate’s black blood and brought it down in a swooping arch. I heard a crack echo in my ears—the same crack I heard every night.

And then?

Darkness.

Three—

I lurched upward in my bed, panting as if I’d never breathed before. I palmed the bed for the cool comforting touch of my mate and High Lord, my Rhysand. The side of my bed was cool, though, and I was quickly over come with worry. As soon as my feet touched the cool tiled floors, my stomach twisted with realization and I ran for the bathroom, vomiting into the white porcelain toilet. This is how it went every night in Spring. I’d have some dream about Under the Mountain or him or Tamilin and lose it entirely. As I hurled up my entire dinner I felt something sliver down the mating bond.

Rhys.

Here to remind me that I was not alone, even though he couldn’t say it. I leaned back from the toilet and rested against the tub.

 _Breathe_ , could almost hear my mate say as he sent more feelings of love down the bond. I did as I was told and tried to even out my breathing, to slow my heart rate.

 _Good_ , I felt him say with a beaming surge down the bond.

 _I miss you,_ I conveyed and felt the same emotion travel back up to me. He missed me too. There was a soft knocking on my bathroom door that sent all of those panicky feelings coming back up, along with the nausea. I bent over the toilet just in case but nothing came up.

“Lady Feyre?” The maid asked. I half expected it to be Alis but I hadn’t hear or seen anything of her since arriving in the Spring Court one week ago. I missed her; her voice, her smile, our teasing chats. I never got to thank her after she helped rescue me that day in the Spring Court when I’d been trapped. When he trapped me in here just like we were Under the Mountain again.

“I’m fine,” I called back before I could travel too far down the “I hate Tamlin” road and just go ahead and kill him tonight. He’d heard me screaming, I’m sure, and puking my guts up—as he heard every single night even before I escaped him—and yet he still did nothing.

Back to square one.

“Would you like me to come in?” She asked. “I have some water and a warm cloth for you.”

“No thank you,” I gasped, feeling the nausea bubble again. “Please just leave me alone.”

She didn’t respond, but just simply obeyed. As did every other damn slave in this court. Lucian does it, the maids do it, the kitchen staff, the sentries…me. I was a slave—I still am a slave—trapped in his court with no where else to go. I vomited again in the toilet before flushing it and wiping my mouth off onto my sleeve with a grimace. I even hated the clothing. Back home—back in Velaris with my court and my family—the clothing was what I wanted to wear. I dressed myself, I cooked for myself—and my mate—I bathed myself, talked to who I wanted, I had the gift of free will.

Gift.

The thought made me stop dead in my tracks between the bathroom and the bed.

Freedom shouldn’t be a gift.

Had Tamlin broken me so much that basic rights, basic freedom, was now a gift to me? I felt another sliver down the bond sent from Rhys to try and calm me. He could feel my anger even with the bargain bond broken.

Instead of a calm rain, though, I sent back a storm and that storm held a promise.

I would kill him.

For my city.

For my people and my mate.

For myself.


End file.
